Page 3 of Silent Shadows

Case in point: my most recent ex. We made it almost a year, which in my world might as well be a common-law marriage. He was kind and consistent, the kind of man people cite when they say, “See? Good ones exist.” Maybe he was a good one, just not for me. Somewhere along the way, I realized he didn’t see me—he saw a version of me that fit neatly into his life.

Podcast host, sure. Funny, yes. Raunchy, yep. But to him, my wildness was contained. Predictable. Easy to introduce to his parents. He talked about the future as if it were already decided. The more he leaned into those assumptions, the more I pulled back, like a rubber band stretched too tight. So I ended it. Clean, quick, almost clinical.

To further solidify my decision to stay away from men, listenership dropped the year I was “happily” coupled. So, now I’m here. Single, successful, and so starved for novelty that I’ve started reading erotica-adjacent conspiracy threads in the middle of interviews. Which feels like its own kind of rock bottom. I spin in my chair, letting out a bone-deep sigh.

“I don’t even know what else I could do,” I admit, quieter now.

Marissa leans forward, elbows resting on her knees. “That’s the fun part. We figure it out.”

“Fun,” I repeat skeptically.

“Terrifying,” she corrects. “But not not fun.”

I let out a huff of a laugh, dragging a hand through my hair. “I don’t know, Riss. I built this on being in the know on relationships, sex, and culture. I can’t just pivot to… What? What did I even like before this shit?”

The second the words leave my mouth, her eyes light up.

“When I met you, you loved weird shit! D., I say this with all the love in the world, but you were such a freak in high school. You organized every midnight premiere of the Twilight movies. Remember when you dressed up as a vampire?”

“Okay, rude,” I scoff. “I’m still a freak and you know it.”

“But seriously, let’s get your sparkle back,” she snorts. “Get it?”

I roll my eyes at her, hiding a smile.

“But really, let’s try something weird. Let’s…” She pauses, her eyes landing on my laptop screen. “Let’s do THAT!” She points at my screen.

Oh, fuck, no.

“No,” I snap. “Absolutely not. Whatever you’re thinking, no.”

She grins. “Hear me out.”

“I will not hear you out.”

“Just hear me out.”

I point at her. “You get one sentence.”

She holds up a finger. “You need something fresh. Something immersive. Something that gets you out of this studio and back out there!” Marissa dramatically waves her arms toward the window.

“That’s already more than one sentence,” I deadpan.

She groans with all the big-sister energy she has. “Come on, D., work with me here.” She falls silent, deep in thought, then gasps. “What if we sent you on assignment?”

I blink. “Assignment? I haven’t done anything outside The DL except a few small miniseries. Like, ever.”

“It’s exactly that, but reported from the field rather than the studio. A limited series or miniseries, still under DL with Daisy. Something that still fits your brand—relationships, human behavior, and jokes—but in a completely new setting.”

“And that setting is…?”

She leans back, clearly enjoying herself. “Bigfoot hunting.”

I stare at her.

She stares back and raises her eyebrows.

We both sit there for a solid five seconds before I start laughing.